A Very Turnadette Birthday
by Cousin Isobel
Summary: Response to an anon prompt on tumblr: Shelagh celebrates her first birthday since marrying Patrick. Unashamedly cheesy and unoriginal. No spoilers for series 3.


**A response to an anon prompt on tumblr to write about Patrick or Shelagh's birthday. This is set a few months after the wedding - but before Angela or any of the baby angst sets in. Apologies for its incredible cheesiness and lack of originality.**

* * *

When Shelagh awoke, it was to the unfamiliar feeling of an empty bed - meaning that Patrick must have gone out on a call and she had simply not heard the telephone ring. Shelagh's body clock had barely adjusted from her life as a nun, and most days, she woke up far earlier than Patrick, his snoozing form sprawled across the other side of his - no, _their- _bed. Not that she ever minded. No, she didn't think she could ever tire of the glorious feeling of waking up with someone else beside her, nor of the many other benefits of sharing a bed... and she got more done if she woke up early. After more than a decade of ceaseless dedication to her work and her worship, she was well used to dispelling any feelings of lethargy - even during those months when she awoke to a cold, empty cell and wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and away from her dissatisfaction.

The gaping emptiness of the other side of the bed caused disappointment to begin; more so on this particular morning than on the other mornings she rose to find her husband gone. Why _today_, of all days?

Shelagh swung her feet out of bed and straight into her slippers - still a staple of her nightwear despite the fact that they were barely necessary in such a warm, carpeted house, in stark contrast to the icy stone flagging of Nonnatus - and knelt next to the bed, her eyes closed and her hands clasped.

_Dear Lord,_

_Thank you. Thank you for another year. Thank you for leading me onto the right road when it seemed that I was at a dead end. Thank you for Patrick, for Timothy, for their love and for bringing me through the past year alive. Thank you for remaining with me even when I had left You._

She stood and made the bed before opening the curtains to a gloomy and overcast London morning, quashing her unreasonable disappointment at something so ridiculous as the weather. Yet she had hoped for so much from today - their first together - and so far, none of her imaginings had proven true.

As she wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her, she picked up a faint smell of - what could that smell be? It was the likes of nothing she had ever smelt before in this house and reminded her distinctly of an unfortunate incident that had involved Sister Evangelina accidentally knocking their brand new Bakelite wireless into the fireplace. Following the smell out onto the landing and down the stairs, she heard whispered voices coming from the kitchen, conferring in frustrated tones as they tried to keep their voices down.

"Do you think it'll be alright?"

"Dad, you can't give that to her. She might _die._

"It might look a bit funny, and smell odd, but I'm sure it _tastes _alright, Tim!"

"I've never seen _anything _that was meant to look like that, dad! You'll have to start again."

"I can't! She'll wake up soon! Anyway, that was the last of the bacon!"

Shelagh heard the clattering of a saucepan being placed less than gently onto the hob and the unmistakeable sound of Patrick flopping into one of the creaky kitchen chairs, and had to contain a laugh as she tiptoed closer towards the kitchen hatch.

"It's okay. I'll go down to the shop and get some more while you clear up this mess, and then we'll start again," came Tim's voice.

"What if she wakes up?"

"We'll have to hope she doesn't."

Shelagh made up her mind in a split second and darted back up the stairs as quietly as she could, closing the bedroom door behind her just before Timothy entered the hallway. She picked up a book and began to read, trying to ignore the exasperated exclamations that drifted up the stairs from time to time - yet she was unable to contain her laughter once it became evident that Patrick was struggling to even do the washing up.

* * *

A little over an hour and a half later, there was a gentle knock on the door, before Timothy bounded in, followed by a sheepish Patrick carrying a tray. "Happy birthday!" Timothy announced, grinning from ear to ear as he ran over to flop onto the bed with a force that can only be attained by inexhaustible young boys. Patrick set the tray down on the bedside table, and before Shelagh had mustered up the courage to examine its contents, Patrick had sat down next to her on the bed and was leaning in to kiss her gently. "Happy birthday, my love," he said softly as his lips approached hers.

Oh, it was worth it. It was worth any number of hours pretending to be asleep for a kiss like that, for contact so gentle yet electrifying, for a moment so brief yet a sensation that seemed it would last a lifetime.

Normally, Tim would have expressed his distaste at such a sight, but remembered at the last minute that today was Shelagh's day, and so instead, he pursed his lips together and examined the grey skyline studiously.

Half a minute later, even staring in the other direction was not enough, and he slipped out of the room, silently closing the door behind him and finally releasing a cheeky grin.

"Thank God - for you -" Patrick sighed breathlessly as they surfaced from a deeper kiss. Shelagh said nothing in reply, but tugged him further on to the bed and kissed him again. "Darling, " he said suddenly, remembering something he had forgotten, "Tim!"

Shelagh chuckled softly. "He left ages ago."

"Right." They returned to each other's lips, and only when the urge to kiss the other had lessened a little did they pull away, instead lying on the bed face to face, their hands clasped. "You're the best birthday present I've ever had."

"Really?" he whispered, his eyebrows raised cheekily.

"Well... once I did get a really nice tie from an aunt who forgot I was a girl..." she teased.

"But the question is, was the tie _appropriate?" _They both burst out laughing simultaneously and stared contentedly at the ceiling for a while, each enjoying the warmth of the other's hand and relishing the fact that they had nowhere to be, and nothing to do.

Eventually, Shelagh sat up sleepily, and turned to face Patrick. "I suppose it's time to survey the trainwreck of a breakfast..." she grinned cheekily.

"Hey! How do you know it's so awful?"

"I came down more than an hour ago, Patrick, and you were clearing up what sounded like at least the second attempt."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, this one's the fifth attempt, and you might want to give it a look over before you write it off."

Shelagh pulled herself up the bed and moved the tray across onto her lap. Much to her surprise, the breakfast it contained looked more than serviceable, and her hunger was such that she nearly tucked in before examining the tray's remaining contents. Her eyes passed over a trio of freshly cut daffodils, an envelope with "Shelagh" scrawled across it in Timothy's schoolboy handwriting, and, underneath the plate, two neatly wrapped presents. She opened the card first, and found a hand drawn picture that was unmistakeably of their small but loving family, right down to the details - Shelagh's horn-rimmed glasses were perfectly captured, and Patrick was depicted wearing a suitably atrocious tie.

_Dear Mum (is it okay if I call you that?),_

_Happy Birthday!_

_Everything's much less boring with you around._

_Lots of love,  
Tim xx_

She smiled, her heart feeling a little as though it might burst at any minute. "Have you seen this?" she asked Patrick, beaming at him. He nodded with a smile. "Open the presents."

The first was unmistakeably a record - Johnny Mathis, as it turned out. "Apparently he's done a very good version of 'When I Fall In Love'", he explained with a raised eyebrow.

"Thank you, Patrick," she beamed.

"Open the other one."

Shelagh quickly realised it was an item of clothing, and, familiar with Patrick's fashion sense, began to open it with a sense of foreboding. However, the sound she made next was not an exclamation of forced joy, but instead, a giggle that escaped her lips as soon as she caught sight of what was inside - Patrick's huge, soft, striped pyjama top. She rubbed its worn fabric against her face. "Oh, Patrick, thank you," she laughed.

"I thought you might like to have it officially," he grinned.

* * *

"Shelagh," Patrick called from the hallway, "are you ready to go out?"

"Out?" she questioned, her head appearing around the door frame.

"To Nonnatus. Sister Julienne just rang - she wants to talk to you," he said, gesturing to the telephone. "She didn't say why."

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Are you ready, or not? Tim and I will drop you round in the car," was Patrick's only reply, dodging her question entirely.

The entirety of the short car journey was spent in suspense, with Patrick giving insubstantial answers to each of her questions.

"Did she really not say why?"

"No, she just wanted you to go and talk to her."

"Is something wrong."

"No, I don't think so, love."

"Did she sound worried?"

"No, not at all. Stop worrying, Shelagh. You'll find out in a minute." Patrick and Timothy were both concentrating most of their efforts on suppressing their laughter, with Timothy darting out of the car the minute it had stopped to laugh silently to himself.

The three made their way up to Nonnatus' front door, Shelagh wringing her hands and praying desperately that whatever Sister Julienne had to say, it was good news rather than bad. Timothy scampered up to the door and rang the bell enthusiastically, grinning as he shot a sideways glance at his father.

After a suspiciously long wait (during which the trained ear could hear much kerfuffle taking place behind the door), the door swung open, to reveal Nonnatus' inhabitants assembled around a huge cake glowing with dozens of candles, each and every face grinning at Shelagh, who was standing on the front steps in shock.

"SURPRISE!"

Shelagh was welcomed in to spend the rest of her birthday with both of her families - the old and the new.

* * *

**Like I said, horribly cheesy. Sorry.**


End file.
